


220km/sec

by kagamiwa



Category: Day6 (Band), EXO (Band), GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life, Youth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagamiwa/pseuds/kagamiwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson was always the first to jump.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> consider that you can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum.  
> as you read this, you are traveling at  
> 220 km/sec  
> across the galaxy.  
> 90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not “you.”  
> the atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with,  
> but they all originated in the belly of a star.
> 
> \- sergio toporek

The headlights of a lone car stretched over the ceiling, filtered through the slatted blinds. Five floors down and two blocks away, a midnight black cat crossed the street and paused in the middle, its whiskers twitching. It blinked, once, twice then continued on its way and disappeared back into the safety of the night. There were no other sounds in the street. A streetlamp flickered suddenly, distorting the darkness, then went out entirely.

Two blocks back and five floors back up, Sehun lifted the end ball of his Newton’s cradle and released it. It struck the second with a clack that seemed to reverberate around the silent room, and the last ball lifted and fell back. Another headlight stretched over the ceiling, throwing its yellow glow over him for a second before sliding away. Sehun kept watching the little silver balls on his desk sideways, his cheek pressed to his arm. _Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack._ He lifted a finger and stopped the first ball before it could fall back, and glanced at the clock. One minute, just like he’d calculated.

His phone lit up, and he stared at the caller ID for a microsecond before picking up. Thought processes flow fast in real time, and in that microsecond he managed three thoughts: _Why is he calling me? Shouldn’t he be asleep?_ and _There’s no way I’m going out at this hour_.

“Hello?” he said carefully into the speaker. _Damn, I shouldn’t have picked up so fast, now he’ll know that I’m awake_ , he cursed inwardly. He tried for a fake yawn, and ended up yawning for real. “What’s up?”

“What’re you still doing up?” Jackson’s voice rang clear down the line. If Sehun closed his eyes he might be able to imagine that Jackson was in the room with him. But then he remembered that if Jackson was in the room with him there would probably be silver balls all over the floor and no more Newton’s cradle, so he stopped imagining it.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he retorted. No point in trying to hide it. Jackson always knew everything.

Jackson laughed. “Hey, do me a favour, asshole,” he drawled. Sehun thought his laugh sounded a little off, but that might have been the connection. “Keep fighting, okay? I know this sounds fucking weird, but you can do it. You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Sehun lifted his head off the desk, his eyebrows furrowed. “What?” he asked, and a nervous, breathless laugh forced its way out of this throat. Old habits die hard, and Sehun had never tried to kill his in the first place.

“Yeah, you know, you never say much but you’re always watching, and you know everyone else as well as I do,” Jackson said nonchalantly, and Sehun imagined him shrugging and grinning. “Maybe you can be a little asshole sometimes, but when it comes down to it you’re my man, y’know?”

“Are you drunk?” Sehun rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Typical Jackson talk. He’d had this kind of call before, where Jackson rings up randomly in the middle of the night and tells whoever was on the receiving end that they’re a real bro, and could they come down to the local police station and bail him out? Sehun went the first time, and got Jongin to go the second. “Wait, no, did you get arrested again?”

This time Jackson’s laugh sounded a little more genuine. “Nah, just thinking about things.”

“Oh.” Sehun dropped his head back down on the desk. Another typical Jackson trait, having random moments of feeling at odd hours of the night (or morning). Or so Jinyoung told him. This was Sehun’s first time getting one of these calls.

There was silence on the other side of the line, and he took the opportunity to try and rest his phone on his ear. It lasted for a few seconds, and he heard Jackson start with a “Hey Sehun, I’m -,” before he shifted and it toppled off him and onto the floor with a clatter. He snatched it up, but Jackson was already done talking.

“Did you say something?”

“Did you drop your phone on the floor?”

“No,” Sehun muttered.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Okay.” Sehun felt something uneasy beginning to well up inside his gut, like he had eaten some bad kimchi and was feeling the effects now. There was something wholly unnatural about this conversation, but maybe it was because he’d never had the opportunity to talk like this to Jackson before. Maybe he just wasn’t used to it. “Where are you?” he tried.

A pause. “I’m at home.” And then Jackson exploded into a guffaw again, and Sehun held the phone away from his ear slightly. “Or I will be soon. Don’t worry man, I’m not in the lockup. I won’t be there anymore. Promise.”

Sehun didn’t believe him, but decided not to say anything. Jackson was always the first to jump headlong into things without much thought, but he’d realized a while back that they were okay with being dumb enough to keep following him. “Okay… well… I’m going now,” he glanced up at the clock. “Got church in the morning.”

“Don’t fucking act like you actually go to church Oh Sehun, you use that line every Saturday night. I bet you just stay home with your left hand all day,” Jackson cursed, and Sehun grinned to himself. The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach vanished, and he felt like he could breathe a little easier. Everything was normal. Yes, everything was very much normal.

“Whatever,” he yawned. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” said Jackson. “Take care. See ya on the other side.”

“The other side?”

“Go to sleep, Sehun.”

And he was gone. Sehun stared dumbly at the phone in his hand like they did in movies when the protagonist was waiting for that life altering phone call or for the phone to magically talk back, but it didn’t ring again nor sprout a mouth from the transmitter. He tossed the phone on to his bed and decided not to dwell too much on Jackson Wang and his weird-ass mood swings.

Sehun lifted the first two balls on the cradle with one finger and let go.

Five floors down and two blocks away, the black cat from before suddenly leapt from the bushes that surrounded an ordinary looking block of flats with a yowl of distress at the sudden loud thud in the silent night. In the same building, 10 floors up, a man in a suit and holding a briefcase in one hand opened the front door of his tiny home and paused in the doorway while he took off his shoes. He listened intently for a while, but after hearing nothing else he entered the flat and closed the door behind him. Back on the ground, the cat sniffed at the dark pool beginning to creep across the concrete and flicked its tail with displeasure before it turned and fled down the street.

_Clack._

The two spheres hit the remaining three. The last silver ball dislodged itself from its wire perch and tumbled out of sight under his bed, and Sehun realized that something was very, very wrong. He scrabbled amongst the bedsheets for his phone and hit dial with shaky fingers, but Jackson didn’t pick up. He hit redial six times in the next two minutes. Jackson never picked up.

 

 

_______________________

 

 

Jackson was always the first to jump.

 

 

 

/


	2. make some new friends if you want to forget the old ones

_______________________

 

 

Jinyoung never liked funerals.

The first one he attended in living memory was when his grandfather passed when he was 7 years old. He only remembered little snatches of details from that time; white lilies, the smoke from the candles curling into the air, his grandfather’s portrait draped in black. That was all.

When his grandmother died 5 years later, there was the same suffocating stench of the white lilies intermingling with the same smoke from the same white candles, and his grandmother’s portrait draped in - he was sure - the same black cloth. His mother had wailed with the same terrible voice she had used 5 years ago, and his father sat stoically next to her with his hands firmly on his knees. Jinha had sat equally quietly next to him, but his hands on his knees were clenched. Jinyoung tried to be like him, tried to be calm, but when his elder brother reached over and patted him on the shoulder it was enough to make him burst into tears.

And now here he was barely 6 years after that second funeral, 7 months away from turning eighteen, burying his best friend.

Losing his only remaining grandparents had been a bummer, but at least they hadn’t died before their time.

The room was small, smaller than his grandparent’s, and only a handful of people were scattered around. Him, Jaebum, Jongin and Sehun were slumped against one wall, and Jackson’s grandmother and mother clutched each other and cried softly on the other. One empty soju bottle was all that remained of Jackson’s father’s presence, and Jinyoung was more than a little pleased that one look at his ex-wife was all it took for him to get up and leave. He wasn’t in the mood to keep watching the man who effectively threw Jackson away keep swigging at his alcohol without saying a word.

“Jackson would never,” Jongin kept muttering beside him, but Jinyoung never asked him to complete the sentence. Jackson would never what? Want a funeral as quiet as this? Sit in silence while everyone else mourned? Jump off the balcony of his apartment while his father and grandmother lay asleep in their beds and not even leave a note? And not even say goodbye?

“God damn it,”Jinyoung muttered angrily. On his other side, Jaebum smoothed his hair back for the hundredth time as he clicked his fire lighter on and off in his other hand. Beside Jongin, Sehun’s face was buried in his arms, his knees curled into his chest. He hadn’t said a word since they arrived, but Jinyoung had expected that. He turned to look at Jackson’s portrait, at Jackson’s carefree sharp-toothed grin and everything was wrong. Jackson hadn’t had black hair for a year, he hadn’t worn his school uniform for two and he wouldn’t smile while living such a blatant lie, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t he wouldn't _you bastard you bastard you bastard don’t smile at me like that why didn’t you call me, I could have saved you, I could have saved you, I could have -_

Lilies smell like death and smoke suffocates and black drapes can smother and Jinyoung barely made it to the bathroom in time to throw up whatever little breakfast he had into the toilet bowl.

 

Jaebum was waiting for him outside when he emerged, bile still clinging to the back of his throat and the aftertaste weighing heavily on his tongue.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, watching Jaebum flick his fire lighter on and off, on and off. Jaebum didn’t say anything, but he stopped midflick and let the flame burn in the air. “You’re wasting it,” Jinyoung said, and leaned over to blow it out.

“Hey,” said Jaebum suddenly. “Do you think Jackson hated us?”

Sehun and Jongin chose that exact moment to walk around the corner, Jongin looking more sullen and defiant than usual and Sehun’s expression the epitome of pure misery. It only took one look at their faces for Jinyoung to know that this was not going to end well.

“What the hell did you just say?” Jongin walked right up to Jaebum, his hands still in his pockets. Jaebum didn’t even flinch, his stare going right him. Jinyoung’s fingers twitched as Sehun slumped to the floor, burying his head in his hands again. This was the exact situation that he wasn’t prepared for, that he knew would happen. This wasn’t his domain, breaking up fights between Jaebum and Jongin. It wasn’t anyone’s domain because once upon a time it had been Jackson’s. And now he was gone.

“Hey -,” he started, when Jongin seized the front of Jaebum’s jacket and pushed him back against the wall. “Knock it off, Jongin,” he added without much conviction.

“I said Jackson must’ve really fucking hated us to have left us behind like this,” Jaebum spat, shoving Jongin away roughly. “Do you think he really thought of us as friends, huh? If he couldn’t even tell us what was bothering him? If he couldn’t even leave a note? If he couldn't even say goodbye?”

“Shut up,” Jongin panted, staring doggedly at him. Jinyoung knew that this would be the right time to tear them apart before Jaebum got too riled up, before Jongin lost it, but words cut deep and everything Jaebum said was a stab in his chest because he had thought the exact same thing not more than 10 minutes ago. “You didn’t know shit about Jackson if you’re gonna say that.”

“Oh yeah?” Jaebum took a step forward, and this time Jinyoung had enough fortitude to hold him back. “And what did you know about Jackson, huh? You must’ve had him down to a T, since you seemed to know that he would kill himself!”

“Shut up!” Sehun yelled out, looking up at them, and the shock that Sehun had actually yelled at anyone was enough to make Jaebum and Jongin lapse into silence. Jinyoung saw anguish written in Sehun’s eyes, and he clenched his teeth to stop his own from welling up.

“Hey, who’s yelling down here?” came a voice, and a funeral parlour worker came round the corner. “This is a place of mourning, and if you haven’t any respect then please leave!”

“We were just leaving,” Jongin managed with a charming smile, then he turned and strode away without another word. Jaebum gave a roar of frustration and kicked the wall behind him hard enough to leave a crack in the plaster, and Sehun buried his head in his arms again.

By the time Jinyoung got home, he decided that maybe it would be better for all of them if they all just stopped being friends.

 

 

_______________________

 

 

 

“Hey, want to come with me to buy shoes?” Jongin’s voice echoed around the bedroom, and Sehun closed his eyes. He was lying in bed amongst his rumpled sheets like he had been for the past 5 days, his blinds shut tight so that not a ray of sun would come in. His mother kept leaving food for him at the door, but it went virtually untouched. Everytime he tried he ended up throwing everything back up anyway. Sehan had knocked on his door the first few days with a concerned Hyung, are you okay? Hyung? Hyung?, then gave up when there was no answer. It only made Sehun feel worse.

“What’s wrong with your old ones?” he managed through cracked lips. There was a dull pounding in the left side of his head, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to get out of his room (or change his sheets, whichever came first).

“Nothing, just new school year, new school shoes, y’know?” Jongin replied. “Are you coming or what?”

Sehun groaned, and looked at the time. 11am. He’d been awake since 6. He groaned again, and sat up. “Where do you want to go?”

“I'll just meet you at the station here,” Jongin said carelessly. “We’ll just walk around here, I can't be bothered going too far. See you in a bit.”

After he hung up, Sehun stared at the wall for a little while longer. Here meant Sinsa, where Jongin lived. Which meant Jongin was at home. He wasn't sure why he was so surprised; after all, it was the holidays and without Jackson where else could Jongin stay?

Without Jackson. It rested strangely on his tongue, as if these were the only two words in the world that were just not meant to be said in the same sentence. But he had thought it. And it was real. No matter how hard the concept was to grasp, Jackson was gone and he was never coming back. And he left Sehun with nothing but a cryptic phone call and his blood on his hands.

See ya on the other side.

Sehun swallowed, took a deep calming breath, and swung his legs off the bed.

 

“You look like shit,” Jongin said by way of greeting when Sehun stepped off the train, a dark blue beanie with a giant bobble pulled over his ears. He pushed himself off the wall, his hands still in his puffer jacket. He grinned his usual lopsided grin, and Sehun felt a little better, a little less disjointed. If Jongin could act like everything was fine, that everything was normal, so could he.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and shrugged.

“Let’s go,” Jongin hitched his shoulder at the exit. “Should I get another pair of New Balance or Pumas? The Pumas are pretty cheap but I dunno if they’re comfortable and y’know, New Balance…”

Sehun let him ramble on as they made their way out of the subway, but he was barely listening. Yes, maybe everything would be alright.

 

  
_______________________

 

 

 

By the time the bell rang for 6th period, Jinyoung was feeling pretty good about his decision. He’d managed to get himself a good seat next to the window in class, he didn’t see Jaebum at all during lunch, and he’d just found out that they’d got the best English teacher in the school this year, so maybe, just maybe things would be better. Things had to be better.

Still, once a thief always a thief, and Jinyoung was in the mood to fuck some shit up tonight. Now all he had to do was get a plan together and call Jackson and -

Oh.

“Hey,” said a voice beside him, and he turned to look at the guy sitting in the seat next to him. What was his name again? He’d caught glimpses of this guy during the past 3 years in high school, but he’d never known his name. He looked harmless enough, but Jinyoung knew he had to be pretty smart to be able to move up into his class for the last year. “Umm, can I borrow your ruler? I, uh, kind of just snapped mine in half.” He waved the broken pieces of his plastic ruler around, which Jinyoung found a little odd but whatever. If you need a ruler, you need a ruler right?

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he passed his own to him. The guy smiled, a really friendly wide smile full of teeth and gum, and took it with a “thanks.” Jinyoung let a few seconds pass, then turned sideways in his seat and stretched his legs out into the aisle.

 

**Step 1:** make some new friends if you want to forget the old ones.

 

“So I’m Jinyoung,” he said. The guy looked a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected him to keep talking. “You moved up this year, right? I think I remember seeing you around. What’s your name?”

“Oh, umm, yeah,” said his neighbour. “I used to be in class 3. I’m Wonpil. Nice to meet you.” He ducked his head slightly, his smile a little more nervous than before.

“Nice to meet you too,” Jinyoung bowed back. “Hey, what’re you doing after school? Wanna hang out?”

“Umm, I kind of have cram school tonight,” Wonpil replied a little sheepishly. He lifted a hand and scratched behind his ear. “Sorry.”

“On the first day of school?” Jinyoung scoffed. “Please, you’re not going to fall behind just because you miss the first day of cram school,” he rolled his eyes. Cram schools were a personal inconvenience to him, which was why he never went. It was a philosophy of his that if you knew how to manage your time you didn’t need cram schools, which was why by the time he’d graduated middle school with the best GPA in the year, he’d also managed to spend most of his nights sneaking out of his apartment and making it back before his parents even noticed. Annoying genius was what Jackson called him. Jinyoung preferred time traveller.

“Maybe,” Wonpil still looked hesitant. “But I think I should go on the first day.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung shrugged. He smiled to show that he wasn’t offended or anything, because

 

**Step 2:** don’t scare people away if you want to make new friends.

 

“Maybe tomorrow then? Or whatever day you’re free. I don’t go to cram school so I’m always free after school.”

“You don’t go to cram school?” Wonpil’s eyes widened, looking impressed. Jinyoung smirked inwardly. This was always the best part, having the person he was talking to figure out that he was smarter than they thought. It was always terribly fulfilling. “Wow.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged. “I just study on my own. Hey, if you don’t feel like being squashed in a stuffy room with a dozen other kids every now and then, why don’t we study together? I bet it’ll be a lot more fun.”

 

**Step 3:** keep pushing til they say yes.

 

“Oh,” said Wonpil. He looked like he was thinking for a few seconds, then he smiled the same toothy smile from before. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

 

**Step 4:** have fun with new friend.

 

Jinyoung smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

 

 

_______________________

 

 

 

He was smashing empty bottles in an alleyway when Sehun called him, sounding like he was out of breath.

“Get down to the base,” he said when Jaebum picked up. “Jongin says he’s got something.” Jaebum didn’t ask what it was that Jongin had, nor did he ask why Sehun was panting. He hadn’t seen any of his friends since the funeral 10 days ago, not even Jinyoung, which was really saying something when they were in the same school. Not that he had really been going to school. Everything was still pretty much a haze when he had to take in Jackson’s loss and the fact that he had been demoted to the lower classes because of his terrible grades last year.

Not that he cared, mind you. He didn’t. He definitely… did not.

“Be there in a bit,” he told Sehun, and hung up. He rolled his tongue over his teeth, thinking, then picked up one more bottle and hurled it at the wall. It exploded in a shower of broken glass and rained down on the remains of the other bottles. One more for the amount of days that had passed since Jackson did.

“Calm down son,” said the homeless guy from where he’d been sitting in the shadows.

“You don’t know how much it hurts” Jaebum spat, and kicked at a shard of glass at his feet as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He turned to leave, then turned back and handed the homeless guy two 10,000 won notes. The guy gave him a curious stare. “Thanks for the bottles,” Jaebum said. “Go get yourself more.”

The guy laughed, showing the black gaps in his teeth, and saluted him.

 

 

_______________________

 

 

 

Jinyoung was already there when Jongin stomped into the base, an area under the train tracks that they frequented despite the clear “trespassers will be fined” notice stuck on the chainlink fence at the entrance. It was Jackson who found this place 4 years ago when they were still a little too short to clear the fence without help. Now there wasn’t any trouble as Jongin vaulted over and landed in a puddle with a wince.

“Reading in this light? No wonder your glasses look thicker,” he grinned as Jinyoung looked up from his book. Since nobody ever seemed to come down here they had declared it as theirs and brought all sorts of weird crap that they found to make it seem more “homely,” as Jinyoung put it, though there was nothing homely about him sitting in one of the seats Jackson had salvaged from an abandoned car down the street, half his face in shadow from the dim glow of the camping lantern beside him.

“Maybe you should check if your shoes are alright before you start mouthing off at other people,” Jinyoung retorted, watching Jongin dump a damp looking cardboard box on the ground. Jongin threw himself on the lumpy couch that had been there since the beginning of time. He looked down at his new shoes - he’d finally decided on the Pumas - and groaned when he saw them splattered with black water.

“Damn it, I just bought these,” he muttered, and tried to wipe them on the side of the couch. Jinyoung snapped his book shut and leaned forward.

“So what was so important that you had to interrupt my study time?” he asked, nudging his head at the box. Jongin raised an eyebrow.

“It’s only the first week of school and you’re already studying? What the hell man, you won’t fit through the door if your brain gets any bigger,” he shook his head and put his feet up on the armrest, closing his eyes. “Won’t tell you til the others get here.”

“Did you call Jaebum?” Jinyoung asked.

There was a pause where Jongin calculated the odds of telling the truth. Jinyoung was easy to deal with, but not as easy as Sehun. That meant that even if he went for the lie, he’d have to use more brain power to deal with the questions that would come after that. Better off telling the truth. “Nah, Sehun did,” he answered carelessly.

“What -.” There was a jangling of chains, and they tensed up slightly before there was the sound of splash, a annoyed cluck of a tongue, and Sehun emerged from the shadows, his own shoes soaked. Jongin chuckled as Jinyoung grinned.

“Got your shoes wet, did ya?” Jongin opened one eye and smirked up at Sehun.

“Yeah, thanks for the warning,” Sehun muttered, shoving his legs off the couch so he could sit down. Jongin swung them back up and rested them on his knees, but Sehun didn’t protest. A train rumbled overhead, and the air shuddered with the vibrations. Jongin closed his eyes again and concentrated hard on drowning out the noise of the train, trying to project himself out into the starry night beyond their concrete fort. Paradise wasn’t always perfect. Maybe Jackson knew that.

 

“Why didn’t you light the burner?” Jaebum’s voice rang out, and Jongin opened his eyes reluctantly. “It’s freaking freezing down here.”

“‘Sup, JB,” he said, and grinned at the glare that Jaebum threw at him. Almost 5 years had passed since they all fell in with each other, and Jaebum still hated it when Jongin called him JB.

“Good,” Jinyoung snapped his book shut for the second time and put the lantern in the middle, where the hobo stove sat. Jongin had stolen that from one of the many tunnels that homeless people slept in, with the reason that it wasn’t the only one there. It was a lie, but everyone seemed to believe him, so the hobo stove stayed. “You’re here. I think it’s time we talk.”

“Talk?” Jaebum stayed standing. Sehun looked confused. Jongin raised an eyebrow at Jinyoung. This was not part of his plan.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung leaned forward into the glow of the lantern. “I’ve been thinking since Jackson’s funeral that maybe it’s better if we -.”

“Jackson’s funeral,” Jongin cut him off before he could finish. “Yeah, that’s why we’re here. Thanks for the reminder, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung looked annoyed at being interrupted, but didn’t try to continue. Jongin swung himself off the couch and leapt to his feet. “So I was thinking, right, that Jackson would never have stood for that piss shit sad little memorial they gave him.” He knelt down and picked up the cardboard box, then opened it and tipped it over. “And when I was looking through the old crap in my room I found these. Pretty cool, hey?” he asked as Sehun inched over to inspect the small fireworks on the ground.

“Is that a flare?” Jinyoung reached out and picked up a tube. “Why do you even have a flare?”

“They’re for when I go on missions and need to call for backup, duh,” Jongin took it from him. “Let’s get a fire going and have our own funeral, right? One that Jackson would really enjoy.”

“I’ll do the fire,” Jaebum said suddenly. Jongin caught his eye, and nodded. It wouldn’t always be like this, he knew, but at this moment he was willing to put aside their differences to make something spectacular. Something that Jackson would be proud of.

It took a few minutes, but under Jaebum’s watch a merry flame was soon crackling away, and Jongin felt a little warmer. He and Sehun had set up the fountains (5 of them) in a loose circle around them, and Jinyoung had opened up all the packets so they wouldn’t waste too much time later on. Practical as always, Jongin thought as Sehun knelt down to help him. Kids like Jinyoung who used their abilities for something other than studying were a rare breed, and Jongin was grateful that they had one of them on their team. Even if his practicality bordered on annoying sometimes.

“Here,” said Sehun, nudging him and putting a sparkler in his hand. Jongin curled his fingers around the thin metal of the holder, and looked over to see Jaebum staring into the fire, a sparkler in his own hand.

“Hey,” he called out, and Jaebum looked over at him. “Before I forget.” He reached into his backpack and pulled Jackson’s portrait from his funeral. He grinned at the look on Jaebum’s face and placed the portrait on the couch. Jackon’s favourite spot.

“Where did you get that?” Jinyoung asked in a voice mixed with admiration and disapproval.

“Nicked it,” Jongin said shortly. He almost added of course but decided it wasn’t quite the right time. Sehun snorted.

“You know you can’t -,”Jaebum started, but Jinyoung cut him off.

“It’s fine,” he said, a slight grin playing in the corner of his lips. “This is actually better, to be honest.”

“We should say something,” Sehun suggested, staring at Jackson’s face. Jongin nodded.

They stood around the stove, and Jongin stared round at their faces as the flames flickered. “Maybe we don’t know why Jackson didn’t say goodbye,” he spoke into the blaze. “Maybe we’ll never know. But that doesn’t mean,” he raised his voice, “that we can’t! That doesn’t mean that we have to send him off quietly! Because we won’t send him off quietly! We’ll send him off in the same way he lived, with sparks and noise and laughter! We…” he choked slightly, and raised his eyes to see Jaebum staring fiercely at him.

“We’ll live!” Jaebum yelled, and it echoed around the concrete. “We’ll live! For Jackson!” And he held his sparkler out over the fire. He grinned at Jongin, and Jongin grinned back.

“For Jackson!” they echoed, and lit their sparklers.

Jongin wouldn’t forget the rain of sparks that the fountains threw into the air, the whoops and yells that they made as they ran around with their sparklers, laughing. Someone lit the flare and the light that cut through the smoke was a picture he probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his head for a very long time.

At one point he caught sight of Jackson’s beaming face through the chaos, and it was almost enough to make him burst into tears.

Jinyoung left his book behind when a security guard chanced upon them and they bolted, still laughing, as he tried to unlock the gate while yelling at them. They ran until they couldn’t run anymore, and ended up in a Lotteria where they stuffed their faces with burgers and pelted each other with fries. Anyone who saw them would’ve thought they were just a bunch of wild kids having fun, but this one night meant something fierce to Jongin. It meant everything.

Yeah. Jackson would’ve definitely enjoyed it.

 

 

 

_tbc_


End file.
